


Beautiful

by one_black_coffee



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Late Night Drives, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Trust, and andrew being so gay, pretty much just the two of them being soft, some very brief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 15:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30074088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_black_coffee/pseuds/one_black_coffee
Summary: Andrew didn’t believe beauty could exist in the world. Not true, unfiltered beauty. Manufactured beauty was abundant, but he couldn’t find real beauty in the world. Maybe, he told himself when he was younger, it was only because of the life he had. When he grew up, he’d feel differently. But as he aged, he held firm in his beliefs. Aaron and Nicky invited themselves into their lives, followed by Kevin. There was no beauty in the lives any of them led.And then Neil Josten ricocheted into his life.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 4
Kudos: 122





	Beautiful

Andrew didn’t believe beauty could exist in the world. Not true, unfiltered beauty. Manufactured beauty was abundant, but he couldn’t find real beauty in the world. Maybe, he told himself when he was younger, it was only because of the life he had. When he grew up, he’d feel differently. But as he aged, he held firm in his beliefs. Aaron and Nicky invited themselves into their lives, followed by Kevin. There was no beauty in the lives any of them led.

Aaron had spent his life under the abusive thumb of Tilda, Nicky, with his homophobic parents, and Kevin in a nest of horrifying in-breeding. Beauty couldn’t survive in a world like that, surely. The world was never fair, Andrew knew that, and yet the idea that beauty was allowed to exist in someone’s world yet others were forced to survive on their own.

And then Neil Josten ricocheted into his life. Neil with dark hair and brown eyes and a miserable wardrobe. Neil who had secrets in that duffle bag. Andrew couldn’t see beauty in that loud mouth striker with a habit of verbally abusing reporters and anyone who wanted to see him dead. That wasn’t beauty, no matter how captivating. It was self destructive. Acts of self destruction disguised as desperate attempts to remain alive beneath layers and layers of self delusion.

Beauty shouldn’t be lies and cheap hair dye. Beauty isn’t meant to be fucked up, scarred, and chased endlessly by the fucking Japanese mafia. Beauty shouldn’t be Neil Josten, Andrew told himself.

And yet beauty was becoming Neil Josten after a few months. Still a question mark with blue eyes colored brown, but beauty all the same. There were secrets and conversations in French but there was also a mutual understanding, a trust that settled itself on shaky ground between them.

Neil Josten could have been beauty.

But then it was Nathaniel Wesninski. Blue eyes, scars ripped and jagged, arms covered in dried blood and torn skin, cheek singed until there was no number left. Nathaniel, all too familiar with murder and blood and everything that could never coexist with beauty. That was a man Andrew refused to see. There was no beauty in what was forged by a butcher’s knife.

Nathaniel Wesninski was something else. He wasn’t Neil Josten, though neither of those personas held any meaning to Andrew anymore. Nathaniel Wesninski was an ideal born of will power and fear while Neil Josten was a cover stitched together to hold together his stuffing of rabbit and self dependency.

So maybe that was why it wasn’t until Andrew pieced together his name, that he realized the complex beauty held together with gentle strings of gold inside Neil Abram Josten. Because up until the moment Neil put himself together, there were too many secrets clouding the full view. Neil gave Andrew his name, not expecting a thing in return, confident that Andrew would treat it well.

Andrew wondered after that, what beauty could be.

He’d spent years deciding what it couldn’t be--- family, friends, anyone who wanted to get close--- but all it took was a gentle pull from Neil for his strings to come undone. Andrew would never admit it, though. Neil had wormed his way behind Andrew’s defenses, making himself right at home, tucked into the one space Andrew could ever manage the slightest vulnerability. And Andrew let him stay. He told Neil to stay. He held out a key and called it home. Invited Neil home.

Maybe that was beauty, Andrew thought, up too late at night. Maybe the look on Neil’s face when Andrew handed him that key was beauty. But it couldn’t have been. Because that was someone else, not Neil. That was a disguise. Beauty doesn’t take form with disguises. Beauty has to be pure. And that’s what kept Andrew awake. Maybe that wasn’t a disguise. Just that one time--- and every time Neil and Andrew played the truth game--- Neil wasn’t keeping himself behind walls, he was slipping past the identity he’d created to poke his head into the world and let Andrew see him. Was that beauty or stupidity?

Andrew called it stupidity, closed his eyes, and shut off his thoughts.

Another night: perhaps beauty was in the kitchen of Columbia. Neil not backing down from Andrew’s mania and giving more of himself to Andrew. A hand on skin that hadn’t been touched with anything but anger. Another truth that wasn’t Neil Josten’s to give but Neil Abram Josten gave it anyway. Beauty in a reckless give away?

What about beauty in a speed dial? In being a first choice? In stilled, pocketed hands and waiting for an answer. Could beauty be in quickly conjured but carefully chosen last words? Were those words meant to be a comfort, a last attempt at leaving behind something beautiful? Was beauty allowed to be created from something so horrific as the self-sacrificing tendencies of a run-away junkie bound to be the end of Andrew’s life? Andrew thought it could be. In a sick way. Beauty in the darkest of places; in the death of Neil Josten.

But that wasn’t beauty. Andrew didn’t want it to be. Nothing about those frantic eyes, set on a secret he kept from Andrew to keep them safe, could ever be beautiful. 

Andrew watched the world from afar, comfortable in his bored gaze and impassive view, looking for something to call beautiful. Few things caught his attention long enough to even be considered: old bookstores, shiny knives, and, of course, Neil. Neil was an ever present item on the list of possibly beautiful things. The whispers only Andrew got to hear, the devastating words that could make a wake of reporters fall silent, the gentle press of lips that grew steadily more confident the longer Andrew didn’t push him away and the faster the pulse under those lips went.

It got to a point where Andrew could almost say, with certainty, that Neil was beautiful. Broken and healed tough with scar tissues, learning to bend around the scars to live. Tired from running and settling down in his place alongside Andrew and the other Foxes. It wasn’t a sick, twisted beauty like Andrew considered Neil’s “last words” to be. It was just Neil. A fucked up outlier on a team of outliers, slowing coming down from the edge to let himself be part of something.

When Neil first fell asleep with his head on Andrew’s shoulder and the Foxes gathered around the girls’ TV watching movies, Andrew knew for certain Neil was beautiful. It wasn’t startling to feel that bone shuddering click. It made sense to Andrew. Neil was the inevitable conclusion. So Andrew sat still, moving his hand up to keep Neil’s head from falling now and then, and let Neil sleep off the day in the safety of the Foxes. He didn’t mention his realization to Neil when he woke up.

That was a pure beauty.

Andrew walked into the dorm to find Matt and Neil playing a video game while Aaron sat behind them and watched, Andrew thought Neil was beautiful. It felt different, though. Neil feeling secure and drifting off was something soft and openly shared amongst a small group. The wild grin on Neil’s face as he beat the shit out of Matt’s character was anything but soft.

Mania was Andrew’s gut instinct, but the smile was wrong. It wasn’t wide-eyed and painful. It was splitting his face in two, radiating a sense of happiness that was rare. Beautiful. Neil being… happy. Andrew wanted to see that more often. He didn’t acknowledge Neil past a raised eyebrow when Neil looked over and noticed his presence, but he came to sit on the opposite end of the sofa from Aaron.

Beauty could be happiness, Andrew learned.

The other Foxes cleared out of the locker room before Neil got back from press duty. They’d all heard the ass whooping Neil had delivered and hadn’t wanted to stay for the speech of a lifetime from Wymack. Andrew stayed, waiting for his idiot with his back against the lockers. When the door swung open, there was only one set of footsteps. Neil looked at Andrew for a minute, skin burning red and lip being worried between his teeth. Andrew nodded, a silent  _ yes _ , and Neil was instantly in his space, hugging him until his breathing evened out.

His skin was hot under Andrew’s hands but neither mentioned it. Words stayed trapped behind Neil’s eyes and Andrew didn’t ask him to share. It was enough to have Neil where he couldn’t do anymore damage. Where the destructive anger eating away at him wasn’t something dangerously corrosive but something Andrew recognized as beautiful. The genius, the passion, the truth.

It was becoming regular for Andrew to discover new things that were beautiful through the lens of Neil Josten. Only to himself would he admit to enjoying the feeling of Neil’s brightly burning anger draining out of him at the touch of Andrew’s lips to his forehead, making way for the softer beauty.

It all kept Andrew awake at night. He’d spent so long sure that the world was inhabitable for beauty, the drastic shift in his beliefs made his head hurt. The certainty that beauty was entirely manufactured was a defense he’d cultivated for himself, he was acutely aware of that as he was aware of  _ why _ he’d subconsciously done so. Nagging fear of never being enough nor worthy of anyone’s love had haunted him until it morphed into the knowledge that he was too broken for the world to deem acceptable. He’d brushed it off and carried on, unwilling and unable to care.

Like so many things, though, that changed with Neil.

Neil staying and picking up ice cream for Andrew “just because” and letting Andrew lean against him when he was too tired to even want to hold his own. Suddenly, Andrew was wanted. Not in a superficial, easy to leave behind way either. Andrew was wanted fully, as a constant, for as much as he was willing to give. Neil wouldn’t ask for more than that, wouldn’t even consider asking for anything more than what Andrew was comfortable giving. And that made Andrew’s chest hurt in a new, but not bad, way.

He knew what it meant when Neil turned his head to whisper a joke in Andrew’s ear because, even if Andrew didn’t laugh, Neil was well aware of his amusement. He knew what putting his head on Neil’s chest and letting him play with his hair meant. He knew that when he let Neil help him stress bake and Neil listened to everything Andrew said, following his instructions perfectly, he was wanted and he  _ wanted _ to be wanted.

There was more to it. A better explanation for the shivers and the trust. Neither of them bothered saying it. It was clear enough for them both so the words remained weaved into all of their actions. Andrew couldn’t help but think  _ that _ was beautiful. And something he desperately wanted to keep. He’d never truly cared if he kept anyone since Cas. Part of him was warming to the idea of keeping the Foxes around but that wasn’t the same as Neil. The Foxes were, admitted only begrudgingly, friends. Neil was Neil.

He wanted Neil and he wanted Neil to want him. It was terrifying. It was reaching out to a hill, taking a running leap, and hoping it wasn’t a cliff.

Neil was, and always would be, the catalyst of Andrew’s demise.

And that was why Neil was asleep next to Andrew, in Andrew’s bed, while Andrew stayed wide awake. There was a single word toying at the edges of his mind as he memorized as much of the relaxed expression on Neil’s face as he could:  _ Beautiful _ .

It was late enough at night to be considered early in the morning and Andrew had yet to get any sleep. Neil had drifted off hours ago, falling asleep facing Andrew with his fingertips twisted up in the front of Andrew’s shirt. A long day and an even longer practice meant Kevin and Nicky passed out in their respective beds almost as soon as they climbed in. Neil had waited a few minutes before making his way to Andrew’s bed and, with permission, tucking himself under the covers. They didn’t speak more than whispered  _ “good night” _ s.

Andrew traced the features of Neil’s face over and over with his eyes, knowing each of them perfectly well but still wanting to be sure he’d have the memory of Neil no matter what. He was beautiful. Peaceful like he never was awake. Beautiful. The knowledge that something so beautiful was so close could have made Andrew dizzy. He wasn’t immune to emotional sentiments, though he was most prone to them while the world around him was clocked out.

The feeling of being alone was nothing new. It shouldn’t bother Andrew at all. Shouldn’t make him want to flick Neil until he wakes up and looks at him until Andrew’s real again. Being alone was always safer. Neil needed to sleep and Andrew didn’t need to be kept company when he couldn’t sleep. He’d been awake for hours while the others slept, thinking and watching Neil. He’d been just fine.

But there was something incredibly precious and beautiful sharing a bed with him.

Something made rough and hard from years of running and abuse yet still so capable of the gentleness neither of them had ever known.

Andrew wanted to see his eyes, to know he was real. Not a pipe-dream. Not a fucked up hallucination. Andrew wanted to feel the soft waves of his hair and that soft smile of his pressed against Andrew’s skin. It was late at night and Andrew was lonely. It was late at night, Andrew was lonely, and being left alone with the only thing he considered to be truly beautiful was getting to him.

“Neil. Wake up.” He kept his voice below a whisper so as to not wake Kevin or Nicky. Neil’s eyes fluttered open immediately. The fact that he had fallen asleep in Andrew’s bed instead of his own didn’t seem to bother him much at all, nor did the fact that Andrew was leaning close to whisper in his ear.

“Is everything okay?” Neil’s eyes were hooded but his voice was sharp, ready for anything.

Andrew considered him for a minute then pushed himself up and said, “Drive.”

Neil followed Andrew out of bed and to the car dutifully. As Andrew started the engine and muted the radio, Neil yawned and asked, “What time is it?”

Andrew glanced at the clock on the dashboard--- three forty in the morning--- and stepped on the gas, responding with a simple, “Dunno.”

Neil knew better than to keep talking. The radio was silent, Andrew was holding on to the steering wheel with both hands; that was his cue to stay quiet. He watched trees flick by out the window, counted road signs as they flew by. Andrew was sticking to the speed limit so whatever had warranted a late night drive couldn’t have been too bad. Whether or not Andrew decided to ever tell him what was going on in his mind, Neil was happy enough to be brought along for the ride.

Andrew drove with intent this time. Often, these drives had no end goal other than to help one of them focus back on reality. Or escape it. But Andrew wanted to see the stars and wanted Neil with him. 

He drove until he was completely lost with fields of tall grass on either side of the car. When he found a cut out into a field, Andrew turned down it and slowed the car. They drove for a few more minutes before Andrew stopped and parked the car. He didn’t bother looking back to see if Neil would follow when he opened his door and stepped out; Neil opened his own door and followed Andrew into the shorter grass.

Light pollution was less damaging all the way out in Nowhere. The stars shimmered against their tapestry of black, each a crystal woven into the fine grains of time with the silver thin thread of reality. It was infinite out there. The field had no seeable end and neither did the stars. Life stopped there. There was no point in continuing with the mortal ticking of time when surrounded by infinity.

And still, Andrew reached for Neil’s hand without looking. Neil happily took Andrew’s hand and laced their fingers together as he stood next to Andrew and looked up at the sky with him.

Neil broke first. “Do you believe in aliens?”

“Yes.”

“How come?”

Andrew glanced over at Neil--- with his face angled up at the stars Andrew could see the part of his lips and the ways his eyes shifted from one star to the next--- “What? Don’t you?”

Neil shrugged. “Not really. I don’t think it’s entirely impossible, I just think we would have discovered each other by now.”

Andrew returned his gaze to the sky. “What if aliens don’t want to be found by us?”

“Couldn’t say I’d blame them.”

“We’d probably colonize them.”

“Use them as lab rats,” Neil agreed.

Andrew tugged at Neil’s hand, sitting down in the grass and looking up at Neil until he followed suit. Neither let go of the other’s hand. Neil sat as close to Andrew as he deemed comfortable, unwilling to ruin whatever was going on by overstepping. The space still between them was infuriating to Andrew. He just wanted Neil.

“Yes or no?”

Neil said, “Yes.”

Andrew shifted closer until they were pressed against each other from shoulders to ankles. Neil’s skin was warm, too warm for the South Carolina heat but Andrew didn’t care. He couldn’t feel anything but where he and Neil were touching. It was like floating, both of them. No tether to the world, only to each other.

“Why are we out here, Drew?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Neil chuckled and nudged Andrew’s shoulder lightly. “No shit you couldn’t sleep. We’d still be in bed if you could. It’d be warm and comfortable.” Neil wasn’t complaining. He still had Andrew close by and that was what mattered.

“Shut up, Josten.”

Neil hummed and moved against Andrew until his back was against Andrew’s chest, their hands still linked on his thigh. He looked up at Andrew, head leaning back against his shoulder. “This okay?”

“Yes, this is fine.” Andrew brought his free hand up to gently comb through Neil’s hair. Neil’s eyes shut almost immediately at the feeling of both being held and the familiar brush of Andrew’s fingers through his hair. Warmth spread through Andrew’s body at the look of relaxed comfort Neil had.

Andrew leaned down to press a soft kiss to Neil’s hairline. Neil sighed and relaxed against Andrew further, holding his hand loosely and rubbing his thumb across Andrew’s knuckles.

“You know I think you’re pretty, Drew?”

“200%.”

Neil laughed again and held onto Andrew’s hand a little tighter. “It’s true. I really do think that. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, Andrew. I mean that. You dragged me out of bed at the ass crack of dawn, drove us way out of town, and now you’re letting me lean against you and look at the stars. You’re such an asshole and the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

“You didn’t have to follow me.”

Neil turned his head so his cheek was against Andrew’s chest. Somewhere under the fabric of Andrew’s hoodie, he knew there was a heartbeat to which he’s fallen asleep countless times. “Mm, but I wanted to.”

Andrew moved the hand in Neil’s hair down to gently cup the side of Neil’s face, brushing his thumb across his cheekbone. “You make stupid decisions.”

“I know that.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know.”

“I hate you.”

Neil smiled against Andrew’s hand. “I know that, too.”

Andrew ignored the way his heart ached painfully at the way Neil pressed a gentle kiss to his palm. “Nobody likes a know it all.”

“I think you do.” He didn’t even bother opening his eyes. He knew he was right. Neil simply yawned against Andrew and melted into the returned feeling of Andrew’s fingers in his hair.

Andrew leaned down once again to press a lingering kiss to the top of Neil’s head, whispering into his hair, “Fucking pipe-dream.”


End file.
